August 1999 :
Troy –
I sat quietly, eating a piece of the amazing German chocolate cake Torii baked just before I came over. I watched as she paced back and forth, anxiously awaiting good news.
I'd arrived, anxious to go and see The Wood, a movie she'd gotten a small part in, but of course that got bumped down my list of priorities when she told me what was holding her up as she got dressed for the afternoon.
"Oh my Gosh, Troy, what if I am?"
Biting into another piece of my cake, I shrugged and gave a supportive smile. "It's what you want, right?"
"Yes."
"Then everything will work out just fine." She nodded, and quickly began pacing again as she rubbed her hands together. "I still can't believe you and Raj are actually trying for a baby."
She looked at me for a moment and smiled, taking a deep breath before she finally sat down. We were in her bedroom, and I was sitting on this small chest she kept at the foot of her bed. Torii sat a few inches away, folding her legs as she got comfortable near the center of her bed. "Well, we got married in February, and he wanted to start a family right away. I did too, and I figured since there are no definite plans for Fly Girl, as the world is waiting for you-" I stared blankly as she said that. "I might as well give it a real try for our first while I have this break. That way, no one can question me or suggest that I do this, or do that. And, I can enjoy my time as a mother before I move on in whatever direction this career is going to take me. Ugh, I just feel like, what if I'm not a good mother?"
"Why wouldn't you be?"
"I don't know. I guess, I just think about it, overthink what could happen once a baby is here and in my life. Once their little life is in my hand; the responsibility that comes, not knowing what to do right off the bat. I just feel like I'll make one horrible mistake."
"You won't, now relax." Turning my Walkman back on, keeping the volume low as I jammed and mouthed the words to NWA's Compton's N The House Remix, I noticed as Torii got up and rushed into her bathroom. I happily bounced in my seat, doing random dances as I waited for her to return. "Getting busy; because we're cold stompin', and we're born and raised... and we're born and raised... and we're born and raised in Compton." When I finally looked up, I noticed my sister walking back in with a straight look on her face. I removed my headphones and cleared my throat, speaking softly. "Well? Am I going to be a young, fun and amazing auntie?"
She gave a weak smile, and my hopes jumped. A little too high. "No, I'm not pregnant. But, at least Raj will like that we get to keep trying." She chuckled and began putting on the rest of her clothes.
"It'll happen, Sis." She nodded, admitting that she had great faith. This was only their third failed attempt in six months, and she wouldn't feel the need to worry unless they got past a year of trying. "In the meantime, in appreciation of that bomb ass cake... dinner and the movie are on me."
"Oo, a girl can't say no to that." I smirked and began to gather my things, exiting her room a few minutes later after she grabbed her purse and a light sweater.
After spending some much needed quality time with my sister, since I really hadn't seen much of her since she and Raymond got married, I decided to get a little late evening pampering for myself before heading to the studio to meet up with Marliss. I wanted to spend a little time with him too before I headed back to Tennessee for a few weeks.
I spoke quietly, waving to the two producers he'd been working with lately while putting together his second solo album. Why he waited so long in between this one and his debut, I'd never know, but I was beyond certain that it was well worth the wait. Every snippet I heard, it was like he pulled from every producer that had ever been considered a genius in their time, and mashed it into one love child of an album. So far, from my understanding and sitting in on sessions, he'd had over thirty songs that he'd recorded, and he wanted to do at least twenty more before he went through the process of choosing for the album. It was a lot, but he was a perfectionist, still, and he knew exactly what he wanted. He was producing himself, funding himself pretty much since Sony, his new label, wouldn't agree fully with his personal vision; so, I knew that he would take forever until he got exactly what he wanted.
Marliss looked at me for all of two seconds after saying hello before he turned back to his mixing console. And then, he paused and looked at me again with wide eyes. "What... what did you do?"
I smirked, rubbing the back of my head before I chuckled. "I got my hair cut off. You like it? You don't like it, huh?" It was a pixie cut, something I wanted to try after seeing it on so many different, beautiful, black celebrity women over the years. I felt I could rock short hair, and looking at myself once I finished, I felt I was right to take such a huge step.
Marliss bit down on his lip before clearing his throat, turning to look at me fully. "You look beautiful, Baby, I was just caught off guard. I'm so used to your hair swinging and now it's just ... really, really short. Are you going to grow it back out?"
I laughed, nudging his arm before I sat down in the empty chair next to his. Crossing one leg over the other, I shrugged my shoulders. "I probably will let it grow back, but don't you think it was time for something different?"
"I mean, if you're happy with it, I'm happy with it. Are you happy?"
"Very. It was so crazy to watch all of my hair falling to the floor, but it was like something had been lifted off of my shoulders. I felt so different afterwards, free. I love it."
He nodded, leaning over to give me a quick kiss before he focused back on his music. "Then that's all that matters. Say, I want you to listen to something for me."
"Is it another snippet? 'Cause quite frankly, I'm getting anxious like your fans. I want a full song, damnit."
He laughed, nodding his head. "Yes, you can listen to it in full, if you do me a huge favor."
I looked at him for all of a second, shaking my head. "Nope, that's alright. I'll take the snippet."
"You don't even know what I'm about to ask you for."
"Yes I do. To sing on it, and not just small background vocals. You're not slick, Tariq."
He groaned. "I like when you say my first name, and baby, please. The song, it's great, but it's missing something and I have absolutely no duets on this album."
I shrugged. "You don't need any. You can sell an album without duets or features."
"I know that Troy, but this is something that I really want. Baby, I need this." He turned to me, grabbing my hands in his as he began to give me the puppy dog eyes. "Baby, I need you."
I smiled. "Aww, that's sweet and everything, but you need to be tired of working with me." He dropped his head. "Besides, you know that I do not sing anymore. What sense would it make for me to hop on a duet with you, one that you'd probably try to make a single, but I'm still ducking and dodging MCA and their request to get things with Fly Girl on the roll again?" I hadn't sang more than a few 'ooo' and 'ahh' and simple short background notes in over a year. He wasn't about to get me croaking on a track either.
"Forget Fly Girl. Baby, though I might be a little conceited in saying this, this right here is better than Fly Girl."
I rolled my eyes. "I don't doubt it."
"Then help a brother out. Come on, for me Troy. One verse, a hook, and the chorus. That's all I want."
I shook my head, standing firm in my decision. "No, and I'm not singing background anymore either. Tired of getting cursed out 'cause your fans can peep my voice amongst your sea of background singers."
"Not my fault you're so great that you can be singled out."
"Shush, stop trying to butter me up."
He groaned. "Great, now I gotta scrap a whole song."
"Or, you can sell it to someone that'll send it straight to number one."
"Psh." I laughed, knowing that he wasn't upset for real. "Fine, I'll play another one for you."
He took a few seconds before hitting play and sitting back, gently stroking his chin. It was straight a capella and the instant I heard his voice, I felt something in my soul stir. Then this fool came in and stacked his vocals over his own damn vocals, layer after layer to make it sound like a freaking five-part harmony. He sang lead over his own background vocals.
I nodded my head once the beat started, loving that he chose to do something different. "What's it called?"
"One In A Million." I looked at him from the corner of my eye and he smirked. "Yes, it's about you, spoiled ass. I wrote it during that lil' short period we were broken up, when you flushed your meds and pissed me off, and I really had to contemplate if it was worth all that drama you put me through that week. Don't do that shit anymore."
I smiled, shushing him as I listened to the words. "You know love can move a mountain. A change of heart can calm the sea. I'd swim across the ocean if it means having you next to me. Oh, I'd walk on a wire... hey, raging winds couldn't keep me at bay. My strength is my desire, and nothing can turn me away. Baby, wherever I go... whatever I do... Baby, I'm always thinking of you. Believe when I say that my love is true, 'cause you're one in a million. Yes, you're in a million, you. You shower me with affection, Baby; a kiss from you, and I'm on the cloud. Said I'm drawn in your direction, Baby. And the sensation is driving me wild. I love, I love when you love me, Baby. And my dreams have finally come true. Girl, and I promise to love you, and only you, Baby. And this feeling, I'll cherish my whole life through."
I looked at him, smiling wide as I pushed my chair closer to his and pulled his hand away from his mouth once he covered it. "Why are you so damn cute?"
He chuckled, playfully pushing me away before he returned the kisses I kept trying to give him. "You like it? I have to go back and rerecord, add a little something extra here and there, but it's pretty much complete."
"Love it, and it has to go on the album. Um, is it sad that I want you to remake one Xclusive song as a solo song? 'Cause honestly, I listen to it all the time, but I really could do without everybody else's vocals. I mean, you and Raj together is cool, but still, I need a version with just you."
"Which song is that, Troy?"
"Let Me."
Marliss shook his head. "Freaky ass. I'll record it for you though, but..." I sighed heavily. "Only if you hop on this song with me."
I dropped my head and pushed my chair away from his. "Nope, I'll stick with the original version."
"Troy, it can't be that serious! Why are you torturing yourself when you know that you want to sing more than anything else?"
"Who's feeling tortured? Aside from you, a few of the fans, and the hoe who'll remain nameless?" I cleared my throat, speaking honestly. "I don't want to sing anymore. Not right now, and maybe never again. Do you know, when the hiatus was announced, I started thinking to myself; for the first time in three years, I can stop and think about doing something else. And if I had continued singing, it wouldn't have been for anyone else but me. I like not having to get up early, or stay up all hours of the night recording and re-recording, and re-recording some more because something is off to someone else. I like not having to drive in and out of different cities night after night, not having to catch flights at ridiculous hours. I like being able to focus fully on college and the classes that I've been taking. Baby..." I popped my mouth. "I like being able to eat whatever the hell I want to eat without having to worry about working out to the brink of near death because the label and others don't want me to get fat. I like chilling with my extra weight. You like feeling on the extra weight in certain places." Licking his lips, Marliss nodded in agreement. "Which reminds me, I would so love you forever if you made some more of that awesome pecan candy for me."
Marliss blinked twice before speaking in a dry tone. "What extra weight though, aside from your booty, Thinnie Mouse?"
"The point is... there's a new amount of freedom and happiness that came with this break. Right now, I want to be selfish. I don't care who's upset, I don't care who's waiting, or who wants a return, whether it's from me by myself or from the group. I am enjoying this break, and I am going to milk the hell out of it for as long as I can. So, no, I will not do any duets with you. You, like the fans, better enjoy the ones that are already there. Sample them if you have to. And I'm not singing background anymore either. And, if I come to your shows, you're no longer allowed to pull me up on stage. Troy is done. The end."
"Absolutely ridiculous."
"I'll be that, for the sake of my happiness and sanity. May I hear another song, please?"
"Nope. And stay quiet while I work." I smirked, loving how cute he looked when he got upset. He'll be over it and out of his feelings before the night is over with, I can guarantee that.
Leann -
At Brandy's insistence, I began seeing a therapist on my own. She claimed it could be a good way for me to get all of my problems off of my chest, a way for me to reflect without having to worry about someone judging me or making me feel worse about the situation. She said she felt and knew that there were certain things I couldn't tell her, or the girls, no matter how close we had been to one another and she was absolutely right about that.
Still, I didn't see how talking to some shrink was supposed to solve all of my problems or make anything better. All I wanted to do was lock myself in a studio with a couple of bottles and record everything I'd been writing for the past year. Didn't matter if I released it or if none of it was ever heard by anyone but me and my brother. I just wanted to rap, to express myself, my thoughts, and feelings the only way that I knew how. With no restrictions or limits set by a label. Without having to sugarcoat the meaning or refrain from cursing too much. Just complete honesty in whatever way it flowed.
"Thank you for joining me today, Leann. As I stated before, I'm Natasha Johnson, and I am very eager to get to know you, to help you."
I looked at her, immediately annoyed by the excited look that spread across her face. It wasn't fake, or condescending, that much I could tell. But it wasn't one that put me at ease or made me want to be here. "Yeah, sure."
She cleared her throat, readjusting in her seat before she spoke again. "How about we start from the beginning of things."
"You mean, why am I here?"
"I know why you're here. I want to know everything that led to this moment."
"Is that necessary though? You, like everybody else if I choose to tell them, will decide that I'm using every piece of my past an excuse for what I'm doing now. It's simple; I tried drugs, in spite of being told not to, in spite of knowing what they could do to me, after seeing it for years, and I fell. My downfall is my own fault." I cleared my throat. "Can I go now?"
Natasha chuckled lightly, shaking her head. "No, you can't go. Not unless you want to waste the full amount that was paid for this session."
"I didn't pay, my publicist did, so..." I shrugged. I didn't really want to stick Brandy out like that, or waste her money like I did two of the times she sent me to rehab, but I didn't want to be here either.
"Just start at the beginning for me, please. What was your childhood like?"
I rolled my eyes and slouched in my seat. Folding my arms across my chest, I looked around her dull little office. Suddenly, I was cold, and wishing for a moment or two that I hadn't chosen to shave my hair off.
She had her degrees and all types of awards hanging on the wall. Pictures of herself and other celebrities that I assume are or were clients. She wasn't one of those therapists that you see on TV that stare down at their tablets more than they look directly at you. She looked into my eyes, smiled warmly, appeared to be showing interest in what she was waiting to hear. I suppose it helps that she's actually very pretty, and that she didn't come at me with assumptions like most of the in house therapists at the rehab centers do.
"Fine. I'm from New Orleans, and I grew up with a drug and alcohol addicted father. I learned from him during one of our last encounters that my mother walked out after he beat her severely for beating me severely. I was a toddler, so I really don't remember that. I just remember wanting her there. She was an alcoholic too, had numerous affairs, used him for the money he made as a pro-baller."
"Do you remember any good times with either of them before she walked out?"
I thought about it for a few seconds. "Not really. I was three. Matter of fact, she walked out the night before my third birthday. That's what I remember. Having my party that day, and all of my dad's friends brought their kids. I remember laughing like a child should and getting the great and expensive toys that were eventually pawned, but I just kept looking for her. I remember clearly, I was very close to my mother. And when I would ask why she didn't take me, he'd just leave me in my room and go somewhere and drink or smoke or shoot up."
"Your father did drugs around you?"
I shook my head. "He'd go in the next room, or his bedroom, but once you get stuck in a small apartment after money runs out, you know that's all you can afford; the walls get thinner, the space gets smaller and you end up seeing the shit they don't want you to see. I was a nosy kid so if I got bored or I wanted to 'explore' I would leave my room. I got my ass whooped for not staying put like I was told, but I wanted to be out and around anytime he had parties. I learned the hard way to keep my ass in my room."
"You ever get back in contact with your mother?"
I smirked, nodding my head. No one knew this either, just like they didn't know for a while that my father had passed. "Oh yeah, I've heard from Lelah. That's her name." I chuckled. "You know how shit goes. Family, they don't care about you and don't want to be bothered with you when you're not a benefit to them. My father, he lost his career, he wasn't making any money so why take me with her when she can't get child support. It was all about money for her."
"And seeing her now? How recent was this?"
I cleared my throat. "Seven times in four years. First time was almost immediately after I got in the group. She managed to catch me during the one time I went home to see about my brother and she called. Made all these claims about missing me, and always wanting to see me but my father kept her away, and some other bull. I just laughed, and said whatever, and it was another eight or nine months before I actually saw her. She got this old, super rich white man to marry her so once he learned that I was her daughter, he flew her out to a show, got her the VIP meet and greet tickets, and there she was. He always felt that it was so wrong that she had to be separated from her child. I mean, he didn't like the fact that I was a black man's child as well, but he loves Lelah, so of course, his love extends to me as well." I rolled my eyes thinking about it, remembering how he tried to hug and connect with me, as if everything was fine and peachy.
"What was your first impression, seeing her for the first time after so many years?"
"She's a decent looking white lady, skin isn't wrinkled or cracked, looking like the lady off of Dynasty, but... fuck that bitch." Natasha's eyes bugged but I simply shrugged. She asked what my impression was. "I was glad that they had us in separate areas, because I did not want my groupmates seeing her, or knowing that was my mother. I felt like she was gonna act fake and pretend that she'd always been around or something. And I wouldn't be able to deny or pretend that I didn't know her because, unfortunately, I look exactly like my mother."
Natasha nodded, jotting a few things down before she focused her attention back on me. "And, meeting her those few times, did you learn anything interesting from her? Did she answer any questions you may have had?"
"Nah. I asked her why she left and she fed me some bullshit about not being ready to be a mother, and some other foolishness. You know, she could have told me flat out that she and my father fought, that was something I grew up knowing. With the exception of knowing that was the reason she walked out, he never went a day without saying that they fist fought regularly. She would beat his ass if he smoked or drank up everything without her. He would beat her ass for putting her hands on him in the first place."
"But around you, everything was loving?"
"From what I can remember, yeah. Like I said, I was a toddler. I remember being very spoiled, and lots and lots of money and toys and clothes. I remember taking trips to the pawn shop to sell all of it too. Cried my ass off when he sold my Barbie Townhouse." I sighed and thought for a second. "I remember small things, like trips to the park with him. Or, her taking me to the store and letting me buy all the candy and sugar my two-year-old heart could handle." I paused for a moment and put my head down. "And then I remember learning at a very young age that life isn't all good and happy." I cleared my throat, looking at Natasha. "Anyway, she lied about her reason for leaving. And then she informed me that I had four additional siblings, all of whom aren't that far behind me in age. Three sisters and another brother, and how they just love and adore me and wish that they could meet me."
"Would you meet them?"
I shook my head. "Nope. When she suggested it, I said I never want to meet or see them. I don't want a relationship with her or them. If it mattered so much to her, and to them, they could have come around before I became famous; you know." She nodded. "I don't want to always see them, or be around them, and feel that they're only there as long as I'm in the spotlight. I mean... where were they when I reached out, when I had to let next of kin know I was in a rehab facility in case something happened to me? Only heard from her every time she saw that I was out and performing again. I don't need that. As far as I'm concerned, I still only have one little brother and I take care of him. The rest, they made it all those years without knowing me, they'll make it the rest of their lives."
"I understand. Um, you spoke of a last encounter with your father. Where is he now?"
"Dead."
She sighed. "I'm sorry." I simply shrugged, stating that was just how life went sometimes. "Did you start abusing drugs before or after he passed?"
"Started using before, using excessively and eventually abusing afterwards."
"Is there a person that suggested drugs to you, or were you just around them and you decided that you wanted to try? Were you forced?"
I shook my head. "Nope, I wasn't forced. My ex-girlfriend, she used sporadically. For the most part, because of the manager we had at the time, she was clean. The most she'd do was smoke weed and drink, and that's what we did together. I ended up seeing her with coke while we had a weekend long break from performing. I wanted to try and she refused to let me. We fought about it and when she left out of the hotel room we were sharing, I went into her stash. I did what I saw her do, and that was it. She found out, we fought about it, but there was nothing else she could tell me after that. Just like she was, I was capable of making my own decisions. That was what I wanted to do to cope with what I was feeling."
"Alright. Back to your childhood for a moment." I nodded, sitting up a little straighter. I had to admit, I felt somewhat lighter than when I walked in. The only thing that surprised me was the fact that I hadn't begun crying yet. "You said that you learned the hard way to stay in your room during your father's parties and the times he used or drank. You also said that you learned very young that life wasn't all good and happy."
"Yeah."
"What happened?"
I hung my head for a moment, trying to decide if I really wanted to say. As I told her, I truly felt she and others would assume I wanted to use my past an excuse for the things I chose to do. "Did your father sexually abuse you?"
I shook my head. "I wouldn't have been able to attempt to have a relationship with him before he passed if he'd done that. When I say I learned the hard way, I mean that it was situations and moments I found myself trapped in. Things that made me hate him because he wasn't sober or, at times, conscious or willing to see what was happening to me." I sighed. "His friends; when he'd leave the house to score or go and buy more alcohol... they'd molest me. Some went a little further, some went way further. I mean, my father would literally be right around the corner. Once that lock clicked and turned, and he was out of sight of our apartment, it was over with. I'd run, try to lock myself in my room, but I was too slow, and they were too strong. Then, when he'd come back, they'd act like nothing happened. When I felt he was sober enough and could comprehend, I'd tell him."
"Did he believe you?"
"He did, once. But, those same guys still came around to smoke and drink. It only stopped when I was ten, and that was because he finally brought a woman in the house and to an extent, she watched out for me. My little brother was born, they were fine for a good minute and then she left too."
"Did the molestation start up again after she left?"
I scratched my head, sighing heavily. "Nah, but thinking that my father's responsibilities were my own, I did things I had no business doing. Couldn't work, had to feed my baby brother and myself." I shrugged. "There was this one older man, when I was fourteen; he took care of things for me as long as I returned the favor, in whatever way he saw fit." I cleared my throat. "It took so much to keep from getting a lil' rep around New Orleans, but it was also a reason so many older boys thought I would sleep with them too. You know, how dare you have dignity and integrity and standards when you're fucking for food and money?"
"How long did that go on?"
"Until I got pregnant, and then he paid for the abortion, and then he left because he didn't want his wife to know that he liked and paid to sleep with little girls. Listen, I don't know why it's so easy for me to tell you this shit. I've never told anyone, not even the girls I've spent three years performing with and we were thick as thieves, shared all types of secrets." I chuckled. "And like I said, none of that is the reason or an excuse for what I chose to do."
"I understand, and I'm glad you're able to own up rather than looking for excuses. Were you sad that you had to get an abortion, sad that this man left soon after?"
I shook my head. "What was I going to do with a baby of my own, and a four-year-old that wasn't mine? On top of that, I've never liked men. I chose a man because I thought, naturally, that's what a girl or woman should want. I wasn't comfortable, I wasn't having sex because I enjoyed or liked it. I was just doing it to get what I needed to feed and keep my brother safe. It's wrong, and it's stupid, but that's just what it was." I shrugged. "I knew I liked girls, but that wasn't normal. That wasn't a thing, it wasn't accepted. So, a man it was. I regret it, but then I don't because who knows what could have happened to my brother in that year. No one could say that he wasn't clean and healthy, or fed, or that he didn't sleep well, that he wasn't happy or well taken care of. They said that shit about me years before he came along, and while they said it, no one did anything to help. I wasn't about to let it be a repeat with KC. I would have continued doing that, and whatever else it took. Thankfully, though, I started working real jobs. We struggled, but we got by, and then I got in Fly Girl and I didn't have to worry for him anymore."
"What about you though? You really don't believe the weight of that, and maybe other things hit you unexpectedly? None of it ever crossed your mind, or you weren't sitting and thinking as you drank and smoked, or what have you?"
"Maybe, I don't know. I don't harbor on my past. It's too much stupid and ignorant shit happening now for me to go back and pull up bad memories. Okay, maybe when my father was apologizing, thoughts of his friends hurting me crossed my mind, and maybe I wanted to curse him out. Maybe I didn't, and maybe I suppressed it again. That's still not what made me dive headfirst into heavier drugs and doing them more frequently."
"So what made you go harder?"
"Losing him, never getting to make peace or make things right. Failing on personal levels, embarrassing and shaming myself, and even my little brother, though he won't say so. It's so much that my past and my feelings towards whatever was done to me is such a small part, compared to what goes on in my life and mind now. I'm just at a point where I don't care about anything, or anyone, or how they feel. Sometimes, I want to be gone. To disappear, for this life to be over. I feel like I don't matter, that I won't be missed. I take those feelings, I take my drugs of choice, and I just go with it. Whatever happens, it happens. I just don't care."
"Music didn't help or save you from those thoughts?"
I nodded. "It did, for a while. But then, things with the music began to get complicated. One minute you're loved, the next you're not good enough, and your friends, as you assume, are no longer there for you. Or you're told you don't matter, and that you're unimportant. That's not an excuse either, but it never made me feel as if I should continue caring for others. I'm unimportant, why should I care how my actions make you or anyone else look. Get it?"
Natasha nodded, suggesting that we take a quick break before we continued.
There was so much more I could have told, but, none of it is an actual reason for me using. I do that because it's how I cope and comfort myself. What music can't do for me anymore, drugs and alcohol do. And it works just fine.